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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720865">to think that we could stay the same</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_verity/pseuds/ace_verity'>ace_verity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DC Extended Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Growing Up Together, Pining, Sharing a Bed, oliver shows up briefly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:22:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720865</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_verity/pseuds/ace_verity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A love story told in five dances.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>to think that we could stay the same</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>inspired by "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUfkfJfsKrc">Two Slow Dancers</a>" by Mitski, which is where the fic title comes from. for best results give it a listen as you read and/or check the end notes for songs to listen along with for the final scenes.</p><p>cw for brief mention of underage drinking</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So far, Dinah thinks, ballet class is turning out to be a disappointment. For one thing, she’s one of the oldest in the beginner class, a fifth-grader among a horde of second- and third-graders. The instructor starts off by telling them that they won’t get to actual <em> dancing </em> for at least two more classes, and the slippers are pinching her feet, and Dinah’s wondering if it’s too late to quit when the instructor tells them all to pair up. There’s only one other girl her age, and she looks vaguely familiar, her long dark hair combed into a neat bun. She’s standing a few yards away wearing lavender slippers instead of the normal pink, and she’s got a look on her face like she’d rather be anywhere but here. </p><p>Dinah can relate.</p><p>“Wanna be my partner?”</p><p>“What?” The girl blinks at Dinah. “Um, sure.”</p><p>“Cool. I’m Dinah, by the way.” </p><p>“I’m Helena.” Helena shifts on her feet, then asks, “I think I’ve seen you around. Um, at school, I mean. Are you in Mrs. Kent’s class?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Dinah moves over to the barre, and Helena follows her lead. “You have Mr. Danvers, right?”</p><p>Helena nods, glancing between the teacher and the mirror as she stretches — first her left leg, then her right. She’s focusing intently on reflection of her posture in the mirror when she says, “Maybe we’ll have classes together next year.”</p><p>“Yeah, maybe. We could always sit together at lunch, too.”</p><p>“Oh.” Helena gives her a small smile. “I’d like that.”</p><p>“Less talking, girls,” the instructor tells them sternly, and once her back is turned Dinah catches Helena’s eye-roll, and their eyes meet for just a second before they both have to look away, trying not to laugh.</p><p><em> Maybe this won’t be so bad after all, </em> Dinah thinks.</p><p>---</p><p>“Why the hell are we doing a square-dancing unit?” Helena grumbles, yanking her gym bag out of her locker and following Dinah into the changing room. “It’s stupid.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’ve said that, like, a hundred times.” </p><p>“Well, it is.” Helena slams the stall door shut behind her, and Dinah shakes her head and continues changing. They’re the only ones in this part of the locker room, since on the first day of eighth grade Helena had ducked into a cubicle to change rather than staying in the common area with Dinah and the rest of the girls in their class despite the countless sleepovers and summer days at the pool Dinah and Helena have shared over the past three years. Helena hadn’t really explained why, and Dinah hadn’t brought it up, because Helena’s just about the only part of middle school that isn’t shitty and Dinah doesn’t want to risk upsetting her over something that small.</p><p>“C’mon, H, you’re a decent dancer,” Dinah tells her, and she hears Helena scoff through the metal door. “I mean, we did two years of ballet. You’ll be fine.”</p><p>“I quit ballet, remember?”</p><p>“So did I,” Dinah counters. </p><p>“Well, you were good at it.” Helena emerges from the stall, gym bag over her shoulder as she ties back her hair. She glances at Dinah, then looks away quickly — the lighting must be off, because it looks almost like Helena’s blushing as she folds away her clothes and tucks them into her bag. “Remember <em> Swan Lake?” </em></p><p>She does, of course — she’d been the featured ensemble dancer, and Helena had mostly hung in the back looking bored and comically tall compared to the rest of their class. It had been their last performance together, because after that, Dinah decided that choir would be a better fit, and Helena had hit a growth spurt that put her six inches taller than Dinah and had been more than happy to follow the instructor’s pointed comments that <em> perhaps ballet isn’t the best fit for a girl of your stature. </em></p><p>So now Dinah does choir and Helena’s thinking of trying out for the track team, and it’s better that way.</p><p>“It’s only for a week or two,” Dinah says. “You’ll live. Plus, we can be partners.”</p><p>“I don’t think square-dancing is a partner dance,” Helena replies dubiously, but she’s starting to look a bit more cheerful about the whole thing.</p><p>“Guess we’ll find out.” Dinah finishes tying her shoelaces and straightens up. </p><p>Turns out, square-dancing <em> is </em> a partner dance, and Helena seems weird about it at first, hesitant to clasp Dinah’s hands as instructed.</p><p>“It’s just me, H.” Dinah locks their fingers together and grins, teasing, “Or would you rather partner up with Bruce?”</p><p>Helena makes a face on reflex — Bruce has lived two doors down from the Bertinellis for years, and Helena’s parents keep trying to nudge the two of them together despite their mutual disinterest. </p><p>“Yeah, didn’t think so.” Dinah can still see a flicker of uncertainty in Helena’s gaze, so she squeezes her hand tighter. “Just follow my lead, alright?”</p><p>“Alright,” Helena agrees, and by the end of class they’re dizzy from spinning circles and from laughing, and whatever had been holding Helena back seems to be gone, because she’s grinning despite herself and seems almost disappointed when the bell rings and they head back to the locker rooms to change.</p><p>“See? I told you it wouldn't be that bad."</p><p>"You're right. It wasn't," Helena responds, and there's something in the way she says it that sounds different, somehow — but before she can ask, Helena's already disappeared into the stall to change, and Dinah figures it's nothing.</p><p>---</p><p>“So it’s grapevine right, grapevine left, jazz square, pivot?”</p><p>“Uh…” Helena squints at the paper in front of her. “No, the pivot comes first.”</p><p>“The pivot comes — no, that can’t be right.”</p><p>“Well, if this stupid paper wasn’t so impossible to <em> read </em>—”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake, let me see.” Dinah tugs the sheet away. “You were looking at the wrong line.”</p><p>“No, I wasn’t.”</p><p>“It’s the bottom line, see? We already did this one.”</p><p>“God.” Helena groans. “This doesn’t make any sense.”</p><p>“Let’s just start from the beginning.” Dinah cues up the music on the stereo. “Count me in, alright?”</p><p>“Five, six, seven, eight,” Helena recites, sing-song. “One-two, three-four…”</p><p>Dinah makes it through the verse, mouthing the words along, and she lands the final pivot perfectly and looks up. Helena’s stopped counting somewhere along the way, and she’s not looking down at the notes on the script, either — just watching Dinah.</p><p>“Well?” Dinah asks. “How was I?”</p><p>Helena clears her throat, furrows her brow and focuses down on the script. “Uh, great. Really good.”</p><p>“I think I fucked up the grapevines again.” Dinah frowns. “And the kick line is gonna be a bitch. Why did I sign up for this?”</p><p>“You’re doing great,” Helena insists. “Really.”</p><p>“You’re just saying that.”</p><p>“No, I’m not. And the show’s weeks away, you’ve got plenty of time.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, you better come see it.” Dinah points at her. “Not putting in all this work for nothing, you hear?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t miss it,” Helena promises, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Front row.”</p><p>“A big-ass bunch of flowers too, right?”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“That’s what I like to hear.” Dinah accepts the water bottle Helena tosses her, takes a drink, and hands it back. </p><p>“From the top?” Helena’s hand hovers over the stereo, waiting for Dinah’s confirmation.</p><p>“From the top,” Dinah says, and counts — <em>five, six, seven, eight.</em></p><p>---</p><p>It’s been a long night, but Dinah feels more awake than ever now that eleven o’clock — and the end of prom — is minutes away. The music isn’t deafening anymore; the DJ’s cued up slow songs to end the night, and as one melody fades out for another to take its place, Dinah looks around, sighing with frustration.</p><p>“What is it, babe?” Ollie asks, leaning in close. The product in his hair is losing its hold, and his cologne is bordering on too strong — but he’s handsome, and he’s still wearing his <em> Prom King </em>sash even though Dinah had tucked her matching one away hours ago, and she smiles at him. </p><p>“Let me find Helena,” Dinah says, straightening his tie, and he steps away willingly.</p><p>“Save the last dance for me, alright?” he calls after her.</p><p>“I will,” she promises, and slips through the crowd. Her feet are killing her in these heels, and she hitches up her dress so that it doesn’t get caught underfoot. Helena isn’t hard to spot, once Dinah escapes the crowded dance floor — she’s hovering by the punch bowl, sipping from a plastic cup, but she straightens up when Dinah approaches. </p><p>“Ten minutes left of our senior prom, and you ditch me for the punch.” </p><p>“I thought you’d want — some privacy. With Ollie.” Helena frowns a bit when she says his name, like she always does, but whenever Dinah’s asked her point-blank why she dislikes him so much, Helena denies it. It used to bother Dinah more, like when she’d told Helena about having her first kiss with Ollie — Helena had wrinkled her nose, asked, “Was it any good?” with a tone of doubt that had irritated Dinah enough to make her snap, “Just because <em> you’ve </em> never kissed anyone, doesn’t mean it’s not <em> good.” </em></p><p>It had been their first (and, so far, only) fight, and it hadn’t even lasted a day, because Dinah spent six hours alternating between fuming and feeling like shit before they’d both apologized, and when Dinah pulled Helena in for a hug Helena quietly said, “I’m happy for you, Dinah.”</p><p>And she’d sounded sincere, but Dinah couldn’t see her face to know for sure.</p><p>“I’ve been dancing with Ollie all night,” Dinah tells her. “You’re my best friend, H, ‘course I want to dance with you.”</p><p>They end up on the corner of the dance floor, and Dinah drapes her arms over Helena’s shoulders. </p><p>“I’ve never, um,” Helena trails off. “Where do I put my hands?”</p><p>So Dinah reaches down and guides Helena’s hands to her waist before hooking her own hands back behind Helena’s neck. “Easier than square dancing, that’s for sure.”</p><p>“And ballet,” Helena adds, a spark of amusement in her eyes. Her hands are feather-light against Dinah’s waist, like she’s touching something fragile, or holding back. The warmth of her fingertips seeps through the thin silk as they sway to the music.</p><p>“God, that feels like a million years ago.” They’d been too young to know to hold on tight to simpler times, spelling tests and Popsicles and skinned knees, biking to the park with Helena pedaling and Dinah perched on the handlebars, and now their lives are college applications and job interviews, and Dinah feels, somehow, that they’d missed something along the way. “Wish we could go back and do it all over again.”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Helena looks at her, thoughtful and a little bit sad. “I like where we are right now.”</p><p>Dinah looks around, looks at her — Helena, who knows her better than practically anyone, who’d let Dinah persuade her into coming tonight and who hadn’t brought a date, who’d watched Dinah take prom pictures with Ollie and then taken his place at Dinah’s side, radiant in her deep red gown, and smiled for the camera. Her best friend.</p><p>“You know what? You’re right, H.” She lifts her hand to tuck away a stray lock of hair back into Helena’s careful updo. “I like it here too.”</p><p>The song is winding down, and some couples are already making their way back to their tables, but neither of them make a move to leave, and finally Helena takes a deep breath.</p><p>“Dinah, I —”</p><p>“Last dance, remember?” Ollie sidles up beside Dinah, sliding a hand to the small of her back, and Helena pulls her hands away like she’s been burned, the absence of her touch leaving Dinah suddenly cold. “Hate to cut in, Helena.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Helena says stiffly, and she turns away before Dinah can ask her what she’d been about to say.</p><p> </p><p>“What were you gonna tell me?” Dinah asks later, when they’re standing on Helena’s front porch, the limo they’d shared idling in the driveway. The windows of the house are dark, and it looms almost threateningly against the sky, blotting out the stars. </p><p>Helena’s gaze flicks from Dinah’s face to the limo, where Ollie’s waiting for Dinah to finish saying goodbye so that they can head to the afterparty at his house, and she shakes her head. “Nothing.”</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>“I’m sure.” Helena exhales and looks at Dinah once more. Her eyes are darker than even the inky sky above them, dark and soft, and Dinah thinks suddenly of lavender pointe shoes and the years that have passed. She’d always thought she knew Helena as well as Helena knows her, but now she wonders if that’s true — wonders if somewhere along the way, something shifted and she hadn’t seen it.</p><p>“I had a great time tonight,” Helena says once the moment stretches long enough that the chill in the air makes Dinah shiver.</p><p>“I did, too.” And Dinah steps forward and pulls Helena into a hug, feels her stiffen slightly before relaxing and resting her hands on Dinah’s back. There’s only three weeks until graduation, and then summer break, and then college — Gotham City University for Dinah, and Metropolis for Helena, and every moment of the past month has felt like a <em> last </em> of some sort. </p><p>She doesn’t want to pull away, but in the end she does, and Helena gives her one last smile before disappearing through the front door. Dinah stands for a moment longer, and she almost knocks — to say what, she doesn’t know.</p><p>But then Dinah remembers Ollie waiting at the end of the drive and hours still to go, and she descends down the steps, her heels echoing on the pavement, and doesn’t turn around. </p><p>---</p><p>It doesn’t happen in some sudden revelation, like in cheesy romcoms — it comes step by step, spread across a whole semester. First there’s the realization that she misses Helena more than she misses Ollie, even though Ollie’s all the way across the country in Star City, and then there’s her constant text messages with Helena complaining about the workload and the professors and Dinah’s crazy roommate. And then two weeks after fall break she and Ollie decide that long-distance just isn’t working, that they’re better off as friends, and it’s not a relief, exactly, but it feels like it was inevitable. </p><p>Helena shows up that afternoon in front of Dinah’s dorm building with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and says, “This is what friends do, right?” with a hint of uncertainty — as if she hasn’t been the best friend Dinah could ever hope for since the day they first met.</p><p>And Dinah says without thinking, “God, I love you,” and something flickers across Helena’s face that Dinah can’t name even as she realizes — she means it, more than anything. </p><p>They scrape out the pint container with plastic spoons and squeeze side-by-side on the twin bed in Dinah’s room, watching <em> Parks and Rec </em> on Dinah’s laptop, and it’s exactly like the sleepovers Dinah remembers from middle school.</p><p>“I should go,” Helena says once it gets dark, but Dinah frowns at the thought of her on her bike on the interstate at night.</p><p>“It’s Friday night, H. Stay, alright?”</p><p>“Your roommate won’t mind?” Helena asks, already sitting back against the pillows like she’s already convinced.</p><p>“Nah, Harley’s with Pam for the weekend.”</p><p>“Pam’s the one who likes plants?”</p><p>“You got it.” Dinah grins. “You’ve been paying attention, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah, of course,” Helena replies, sounding almost offended that Dinah would think otherwise, and once the clock ticks past midnight Dinah’s starting to drift off, so she puts her laptop away and tosses Helena a t-shirt and pajama shorts. Helena changes in the bathroom, and when she comes out, she stands there looking nervous, arms crossed like she’s trying to make herself as small as possible.</p><p>Dinah swings her legs up onto the bed, tossing the covers back and moving as close to the wall as possible, and pats the empty spot beside her. “Coming?”</p><p>“Yeah, coming.” Helena flicks off the light switch, and the only light left in the room is the glow of the streetlight below seeping through the window and casting everything in a faint orange glow. The bed dips as Helena slips under the covers beside her; the mattress is too narrow for any space to remain between them, and for a moment Dinah listens to Helena’s measured breathing, can practically feel the tension radiating from her, and she swallows past a sudden, inexplicable ache in her throat and nudges her toes against Helena’s ankle. “You still kick in your sleep?”</p><p>She can almost <em> hear </em> Helena roll her eyes. “I was <em> eleven, </em> Dinah.”</p><p>“I had a bruise for two weeks.”</p><p>“I said I was sorry!”</p><p>“‘M still not over it,” Dinah murmurs, and Helena huffs in playful exasperation — but the tension is broken, and Dinah lets her eyelids drift shut.</p><p>She sleeps more soundly than she has all semester, and when she wakes, she finds her arm slung over Helena’s waist and her face buried in Helena’s collarbone, against her borrowed t-shirt, and the blending of the scents of Dinah’s clothing and Helena herself makes her heart skip a beat.</p><p><em> Oh, </em> Dinah thinks, and wonders if that’s what she’d been missing all along. </p><p>She doesn’t say anything, though — it’s probably just the urge to rebound now that she’s broken up with Ollie, Dinah thinks at first, and so she doesn’t say a word about the <em> something </em> that’s changed in the way she feels when her phone lights up with a new message from Helena — though maybe it’s not a <em> change </em> at all, but a sort of fulfillment, a progression, a completion. </p><p>She gives it a month, then two, and it’s enough time to sift back through years of memories, and then she wonders if Helena’s been waiting all this time without saying a word. Dinah’s worked up enough nerve to bring it up by the time finals week rolls around and steals all her attention for days, and she’s packing for winter break after her last exam when her phone rings — it’s Helena.</p><p>“My parents are making me go to their Christmas party,” Helena says once they’ve established that finals are hell but they’re both still alive. “It’s fucking boring, but I can bring a plus one.”</p><p>“Real hard sell, Bertinelli.” Dinah folds a pair of jeans and tucks them into her duffel, grinning at Helena’s crackly sigh on the other end of the line.</p><p>“Free food?” Helena tries. “And good Italian wine, too.”</p><p>“Sure, what the hell.” Dinah’s never actually been to the famed Bertinelli holiday party before, but she’s heard years’ worth of complaints from Helena about how dull they are. </p><p>“Thank God.” Helena’s relief is palpable, and then she quickly adds, “Just as friends, I mean. Right?”</p><p>Dinah doesn’t think, just says, “Doesn’t have to be.”</p><p>Silence, long enough that Dinah worries that she’s fucked up, and then —<br/>
“It doesn’t?”</p><p>“Do you want it to be?” Dinah counters. </p><p>“I — no.” Helena’s voice is soft even through the phone. “I don’t.”</p><p>“Me either.” Dinah can’t keep the smile out of her voice. “Guess it’s a date.”</p><p> </p><p>The party isn’t nearly as boring as Helena had made it out to be, not when Helena’s seated next to her and dressed to the nines, not when every brush of their fingers is like a secret shared between them and Helena looks happier than Dinah’s seen her in years. There’s a string quartet on a platform above the dance floor, and after the dessert plates have been cleared away, Helena nudges her. </p><p>“Want to dance?” she asks, the light of the chandelier sparkling in her eyes, and Dinah glances around — there’s Pino, Helena’s younger brother, loitering by the dessert table and looking politely uninterested; Helena’s parents are already dancing a graceful waltz, the other couples parting around them. </p><p>“You sure about this?” </p><p>Helena doesn’t have to ask what Dinah means, just nods. “They’re okay. Adjusting, but — they like you too. Always have.”</p><p>It’s a weight off Dinah’s shoulders that she hadn’t even known was there, and so she stands and laces their fingers together, follows Helena to the dance floor. </p><p>This time, it’s Helena who guides Dinah’s hands to her waist, and though at first they’re separated at arms’ length, the space between them gradually diminishes, as if they’re drawn together by some invisible magnetism. </p><p>“Why the hell didn’t we do this sooner?” Dinah asks, half-joking, and Helena huffs out a laugh and shakes her head. </p><p>“I didn’t think you…” Helena trails off. “By the time I figured it out, there was Ollie, and I didn’t want to get in the way.”</p><p>“Helena, that’s…” Dinah does the math. “Almost four years.”</p><p>“Six years,” Helena corrects automatically, then blushes. “Um. It’s been six years.”</p><p>“But Ollie and I started dating in high school — even before that? <em> Six years?” </em>Dinah sees that Helena’s blushing harder, looking uncomfortable now, and she gentles her tone. “Why didn’t you say anything back then?”</p><p>“You’re my best friend,” Helena says softly. “How could I risk that?”</p><p>It makes Dinah’s heart twist painfully in her chest, and she stands still, ignoring the movement of the couples dancing around them. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore, alright?” She holds Helena’s gaze, refusing to look away. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, H.”</p><p>“Okay.” Helena smiles. “Me either.”</p><p>“Good.” Dinah moves in a little closer, guiding Helena back into rhythm with the music, but she can’t stop thinking about <em> six years </em> — all that time, and Dinah’s only realized her own feelings for Helena mere weeks ago.</p><p>It’s not her fault, Dinah knows, but still she says, “I’m sorry it took me so long, you know? I feel bad that you waited so long.”</p><p>Helena’s shaking her head before Dinah can even finish. “Don’t be sorry,” she chides lightly, adding, “You’re worth the wait.”</p><p>The words mean more than Dinah can really express, so she just responds, “Thanks, H,” and then gives her a teasing grin. “Damn, I never knew you were such a romantic.”</p><p>“I’m not — shut up,” Helena mutters in half-hearted protest, color rising to her face again, and Dinah laughs. </p><p>The clock is striking midnight by the time the party breaks up, and even though the rest of Helena’s family goes to bed once the last guests are gone — Helena's parents both wishing Helena and Dinah goodnight with warm smiles — Helena makes no mention of following, just sinks down next to Dinah on one of the fancy parlor sofas, kicks off her heels, and hands Dinah a glass of red wine. </p><p>“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Helena says, and Dinah taps her glass against Helena’s and takes a drink, watches Helena do the same, notes the remnants of lipstick left on the rim in an imprint of Helena’s lips.</p><p>“Damn, that is good.” She takes a second sip, but Helena fiddles with her glass, turning it by the stem.</p><p>“My parents wanted me at Metro for business,” she finally says. “But I’m bored out of my mind, and — well, GCU has the best teaching program around.” Her tone is one of forced nonchalance, but Dinah can sense her quiet anticipation seeping through the facade. “They offer transfer scholarships, so…”</p><p>“You saying what I think you’re saying?”</p><p>“If it works out,” Helena adds. “But business majors are the worst, and I’ve always wanted to teach. And I missed you.”</p><p>“I missed you too.” Dinah grins, unable to keep her excitement to herself. “You’re gonna be a kickass teacher, H.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Helena tells her seriously, but there’s a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth too, and she drains the rest of her wineglass before letting out a sigh. “Long day.” She glances over at Dinah. “You ready for bed?”</p><p>And Dinah’s tired, thanks to the late hour and the wine — but she can’t resist asking, “One last dance?”</p><p>“Okay,” Helena agrees easily, and Dinah pulls out her phone and turns the volume up as she chooses a song — something slow and sweet and hopeful. She toes off her shoes and steps in, closing the distance until she’s near enough to rest her head on Helena’s shoulder as they sway barefoot and drowsy to the music, near enough that when she angles her chin up at the same time Helena tilts her head down, she can capture Helena’s lips with her own without even trying hard at all.</p><p>She can taste wine and lipstick and feel Helena’s smile, and Dinah thinks of the new, fragile future unfurling before them, filled with promise —</p><p>And together, they dance.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>in case you were wondering: the song they dance to at prom is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BgOE67GvvIc">Time After Time</a> by Cyndi Lauper, and the song they dance to after the Christmas party is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWSn0H4qfAs">New Year's Day</a> by Taylor Swift (one of my favorites). </p><p>thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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